Reunion
by Inspiration-Is-Hard-To-Come-By
Summary: When Bucky is found with limited memory, he leaves many questions wide open, questions that Steve finds may be better left unanswered.


Steve opens his eyes and rolls over to check the clock, exhausted. It's just after three in the morning. His phone is ringing. Squinting, he grabs it and picks up. "Steve?" It's Natasha, he'd recognize her voice anywhere, but something is wrong. She doesn't sound like that often.

"What's going on?"

"Steve…. we found him."

"I- I'll be there." He chokes, _Why can't I breathe?_

"Okay… just, yeah, okay." She hangs up the phone, sounding as shaken as he feels. Hurriedly, he climbs out of bed and pulls his clothes on, his mind races. _Where was he? Is he okay? Is he scared? Does he know who he is? Does he remember me?_

After speeding through town to HQ, he scarcely remembers to take off his helmet when he gets off the bike. He feels terrified, thrilled, and horribly sick all at once as he sprints through the building and up nine flights of stairs, because he can run faster than the elevator anyway.

Natasha turns at the sound of him coming through the door, her eyes wild. "You okay, Nat?" He asks, she nods slowly, "Okay, how bad is he?"

The look on her face is filled with terror, "Steve, it's really bad."

"Where is he?"

She points to a door down the hall, "Infirmary, no one allowed in."

He nods, "So we wait."

She sighs, "I guess so."

He sinks awkwardly to the floor, and hesitantly she joins him, leaning against the wall. After a moment she takes his hand, he looks over at her, surprised, since she's not exactly the most affectionate person he's ever met, but when he sees her expression he realizes that what she needs isn't affection, but stability. Which is a little strange, what ties to him does _she_ have?

Nonetheless, he accepts and returns the gesture, needing her strength as well, Every second that passes feels like an hour, his muscles are restless, fidgeting as soon as he seems to get comfortable. He's about ready to ignore the rules and go in there himself when the door opens.

The woman that steps out has a slim build and soft features, probably under twenty-five, she has her dark blonde hair tied in a ponytail at the back of her head, she's wearing a light blue button down underneath the nurse's scrubs and white lab coat. The badge clipped to her collar reads Kate Riggins. Her face is serious, but gives a calm message.

"I assume you're waiting for Mr. Barnes?" she says. Steve and Natasha both nod, so she continues to speak, reading from the clipboard in her hands, "The patient was in fairly good physical health as far as nutrition, muscle tone, and physical ability go. Several bruises ranging all over the body, mostly on his right side, countless minor injuries on the upper body, and of course, the lack of the left arm, replaced with a fully functional, high-tech metal prosthetic. The mental and psychological tests were inconclusive, since the patient refused to speak, only communicating through nodding and shaking of the head." She pauses then, startled by the intent stares penetrating her skin.

"He will need to be accompanied by an agent at all times until he is able to take the non-physical tests. I can assign someone unless one of you wants to take him on." She finishes.

Steve doesn't hesitate for a millisecond. "I'll take care of him."

She purses her lips and rearranges some papers before handing him a pen, saying, "You'll need to sign this release and assumption of risk form." He signs it without responding. "You can both follow me if you want to see him now." She leads them into a small back room of the infirmary. And when the door opens, there he is, lying on the bed, looking terrified and confused.

"Bucky?" Those brown eyes, it doesn't matter what anyone says, that's the same glint that used to show up in the eyes of his best friend. No matter what, Bucky's just got to be in there somewhere. _Somewhere._ "Do you… do you know who I am?"

Steve waits as Bucky starts to shake his head, hesitates, looks a little closed at Steve's face, then slowly nods. Carefully, Steve eases onto the bed under Bucky's unblinking stare. Then, gently, he reaches out and places his hand lightly on his friend's shoulder, and like a flick of the switch, the tense muscles begin to relax, and he leans into Steve's arm, and embraces him.

For a moment, everything clicks in Steve's mind, it's going to be okay, Bucky's safe, they can rest now, everything is going to get better, and Bucky pulls back then, searching Steve's eyes for answers to his pile-up of questions, not finding enough.

Then he looks to the red haired woman standing a few feet away. She looks incredibly familiar, but much harder to place. _Why does nothing connect? Why is he always so confused? Why is everyone looking at him fearfully? He wouldn't hurt anyone… right? How could he know? Has he hurt people in the past? Is that why they all look so wary?_ The woman steps forward, extending a hand, "Natasha Romanoff. We've met before, sort of."

He nods timidly. "Ready to get out of here?" Steve asks, met by another nod, "Okay, I'll try to fill in the blanks." They sign another release form and the three of them walk down to the elevator, and as they step out of the lift Natasha turns to Steve, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Steve looks from Nat, to Bucky and back, "Um, no but could you come by tomorrow morning late?"

"Works for me, I'll keep my phone on."

"Thanks."

"Yeah."

"Ready to go?" Bucky nods. "Okay, uh, we should probably not take the bike so, train it is I guess." Bucky shakes his head then. "No train?" more head shaking. Man they weren't kidding, what a contrast it is, Bucky not talking. Out of options, Steve straps his helmet carefully onto Bucky's head, and rides back as gently as possible.

When they arrive, Steve tells him, "It's right upstairs," after yet another nod he says, "are you okay? I mean, of all the people I'd expect to stop talking…"

Bucky looks up at Steve with those deep brown eyes and says quietly, "I just didn't like their questions."

The sound of his voice sends butterflies into Steve's lunges, and he has to look away from Bucky to hide his smile as they climb the stairs. "So…" he asks when the get to his floor, "what happened to you?"

Bucky stops, "I was hoping you could answer that question."

Steve turns, "You mean you don't know?"

"Well… it's strange. My memory is in these little fragments. Like, I know that I know you, and if I think hard about it, I can picture all these little moments, but nothing significant. I know little things too, I just know them somehow, I don't remember why I know them or who taught me I just…" he lifts his hands a little and drops them to his sides, looking defeated.

Steve slowly pulls a key out of his pocket and inserts it into the doorknob, "Well, maybe we can see what we can piece together." As they step inside, Bucky grips the doorframe, suddenly looking extremely pale, "Whoa, Buck you okay?"

He nods, "Yeah just dizzy I guess."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"What's today again?"

"Come on, you're gonna eat."

"What?"

Once Steve has an orange and some water into his friend he says, "So what exactly do you remember?"

"Too much to list, not enough to feel complete. I just need some time." He says, staring at the floor, and Steve has no response, so all he says is, "If you need to shower, it's uh, right over there."

"What, do I stink?"

"Yes."

"Gee, flattery will get you nowhere Steve."

"Well, I would never lie to you."

"I think I'll take you up on that."

Bucky gets up and goes into the bathroom, a few minutes later he returns in a towel, completely dry, and sighs, "Okay. I give up. How do you turn it on?"

After thoroughly teasing him for not figuring it out and then of course turning it on for him, Steve sits down on the floor, pulls an old box beneath his bed. Smiling, he picks up one of the two piles of pictures. Slowly flipping through every photograph he could find of Bucky after he thawed out.

He almost all the way through the pile when he hears the bathroom door open and scrambles to get them back in the box, tucking it back under the bed. He looks up, shortly to see his friend, looking extremely exhausted, dressed in the clothes Steve left for him in the bathroom. They look too big for him. How spectacularly ironic.

"Tired yet?" Steve asks him.

Bucky nods, yawning. "Yeah, um... where can I sleep?"

"Here," Steve tells him, "you take the bed, I have to keep an eye on you anyway."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's not a big deal."

So Bucky crawls under the covers and works to calm his mind while Steve sits in the soft chair in the corner of the room, reading a book. It's supposed to be a classic, but he's not enjoying it much. The silence of the room is oddly satisfying, and Bucky's slow, steady breaths are making it harder and harder to stay awake.

After a few hours, the constant, steady breathing falters, getting faster as Bucky starts to toss and fidget in his sleep. Steve closes the book, playing close attention as the fast breathing turns into quiet mumbling in a language that Steve doesn't understand. Soon after, the mumbling becomes whimpering and Steve gets up, sitting carefully down on the bed.

A moment later, Bucky's awake, tears stinging his eyes. Suddenly, he feels Steve's had on his arm, and leans slowly into his friend's embrace. Steve sits calmly holding him, ignoring the silent, breathless, crying that Bucy is trying so obviously to hide.

Then, after a few minutes, Bucky pulls away, embarrassed, "I'm uh… I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to.."

"Don't. Alright, we all have nightmares."

Bucky nods slowly, "You know, maybe I'm glad that my memory isn't so good."

Steve squeezes his hand, "Yeah, me too."

Carefully, Bucky lays his head down, accepting the comfort. Just as he slips back into sleep, there's a soft knock on the door. Standing in the doorway, in her confident, crooked posture, is Natasha, worry obvious in her face. "How is he?" she asks.

Steve stands back to let her in, "He's okay. Just went back to sleep."

"Okay. Is nine late enough?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

She turns to face him, "What about you? How are you holding up?"

"I'm… I'm getting by. Everything seems so strange… but, it's really comforting to think about the fact that he's safe now. You know?"

She nods. "But really, I don't have to worry about you do I?"

He smirks a little, "No, Nat. I'm fine."

She nods again, "Good."

There's a moment of silence before he motions toward the kitchen, "I'm just about to make breakfast, do you want some?"

"Uh, sure… Hey is it okay if I go keep an eye on him?"

"Yeah, I suppose… why?"

She shrugs, looking nonchalant, he knows it's an act, but decides to let it go. He cares, but there are too many secrets inside of Natasha, he simply doesn't have the time nor the patience to dissect and unravel them every time he notices them.

A good while later when the food is finished, Steve walks into the bedroom, but stops, seeing them both asleep. His head is against her chest, her hands are on his back, and they both look so calm. And as he turns away, he can't wipe the smile off his face, because the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that two of them together is just so incredibly _right._

There's more to that for sure, but who could possibly know? They're both too complicated, too mysterious, and too tired to explain. So he leaves his friends sleeping, knowing that there's no knowing when they will next get a chance to relax, or when they will again see a moment so peaceful.


End file.
